Oestrus
by bcomplexe
Summary: Hannibal found himself standing before Will's house, basking in the knowledge that Will—irrevocably altered by his hand—was just beyond the door. A fill for an alpha/omega prompt from the hannibalkink meme.
1. Chapter 1

Very belatedly taken from AO3 because... well, because. I would like to preface this story with the fact that this is dark. A lot of non/con and manipulative dub/con situations, which is why I elected to label this as 'horror'. Please be advised before you start reading, especially if alpha/omega storylines, consent-issues, and medical talk/kink are troubling to you. Otherwise, enjoy!

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Oestrus Chapter 1

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Whenever Hannibal set a plan in motion, he acknowledged that an element of unpredictability would govern its final course. It was something that he accounted for in his initial consideration. Half bred from indifference, half capricious in nature, it at the very least would soften the blow if—due to the fickleness of fate—his plot never came to its suitable end. A true empiric vanguard, Hannibal was seldom disappointed with any outcome, as long as he could observe it uninhibited. Rarely, however, did fortune bestow her gifts upon his plans to allow for such a result.

Hannibal had timed it perfectly.

It had all started with an errant comment—a throwaway piece of information shared due to the lack of perceived threat. Had Will known it was to be filed away and kept almost covetously until given a chance to bloom, then he would have never admitted to Hannibal that his heats were unusual. During one of their not-quite-therapy sessions, Will had mentioned that the next week's meeting would have to be postponed. As this was just a meeting between friends—over drinks no less—he held no reluctance in admitting that it was because his upcoming heat was scheduled to fall over their allotted time.

Since Hannibal knew that Will was an omega—his gender known by all throughout the FBI—this was not especially notable in any way. With eyes lowered to the flickering fireplace and voice deepened with wine and late night conversation, Will had revealed that he experienced exceptionally short heats. So short, in fact, that they could schedule a meeting just a couple of days after its start.

In less than forty-eight hours after his heat's onset, Will's hormones would find their balance and his cycle would start anew. It just so happened that that would bring them to Friday evening, so Hannibal did anything a gracious host would do and invited him over for dinner.

Although the conversation that night—and Friday's—never once returned to the topic of Will's heats, it never quite left Hannibal's mind. Always at the periphery, the weight of this privileged knowledge was nebulous throughout the weeks until an idea started to form.

As an alpha, Hannibal could appreciate the oestrus cycle of an omega for what it was—a length of time where within the omega was receptive to their alpha's advances and the alpha sensitive to theirs. The longer it lasted, the higher the probability of their coupling resulting in pregnancy. Most omegas would average heats that lasted up to five days, but the longest one on medical record lasted for an interminable twenty-one days.

Twenty-one days was long enough that the omega in question, bred long and hard under observation, took as much alpha seed as possible.

Alternatively, just under forty-eight hours was hardly any time at all. To have such a long period of sexual rest between heats was curious indeed, especially in one as seemingly as healthy as Will. It was a puzzle that did not necessarily beg for an answer but one that Hannibal was determined to unravel according to his wishes. For the 'why's were not pertinent when the 'hows' were rather much more interesting.

This was how Hannibal began to disappoint the upper echelons of Baltimore with fewer and fewer dinner invitations, as he spent less time stocking his fridge and crafting elegant meals in lieu of building his strategy from the ground-up.

Developing a drug regime that had a short half-life was necessary for his manipulations to remain undiscovered; however, a rapid clearance would require regular dosages. Thankfully, the colourless, odourless, and tasteless powder was easily slipped into water shared over meals. And if—because of Will's hectic work life and his barely concealed desperation for companionship—Hannibal was able to provide most meals, then far be it for Hannibal to complain.

Hannibal knew that Will's next heat was to arrive on the Tuesday, and with the medication, Will's heat should last for much longer than 48 hours. For how long, he could not guess; but with any drug trial, it would be repeated for many months until the desired results were produced. After such a time, Will would confide in Hannibal the confusing changes he was experiencing. If he was lucky, Hannibal would one day see them first hand.

What Hannibal didn't account for was that the Monday before Will's heat, his classes went on break. At the same time, and perhaps due to Hannibal's own preoccupations, Jack had no murders for which to call upon his bloodhound. When Will missed not one but two of his scheduled meetings with Hannibal, the doctor did everything within his power not to visit his not-quite-patient unannounced; for a good plan was one that unfolded organically, and he remained vigilant that Will would be the one to come to him.

That is, of course, until this morning, when Jack asked him to accompany him to Will's house in Wolf Trap. Jack had called Hannibal out of frustration, asking the doctor if he had had any contact with Will. Jack had left several increasingly demanding voicemails himself with no luck, and after being thoroughly ignored, Jack's patience had ran so thin it shattered. When Hannibal revealed that, no he had not seen or heard from Will in weeks now, and in fact Will had missed dinner twice, that was the last straw. Jack had growled then, thinking Will was purposefully withdrawing from his responsibilities, so he had demanded that he drive Hannibal to Will to see if the profiler could account for his absence. Or at least, Hannibal mused, as much as a beta could demand of an alpha.

Which is how Hannibal found himself standing before Will's house, basking in the knowledge that Will— irrevocably altered by his hand—was just beyond the door. The house yawned with Will's presence, hidden away behind walls and insulation. It throbbed with an intensity, and like a tuning fork, Hannibal found the fibres of his being harmonising. Nerves alight with anticipation and the thrill of ambiguity, Hannibal revelled in the fact that until he crossed the door's threshold the extent of his influence was unknown.

The scene that greeted them was grim. The door had its screen pushed out from the inside—an obvious makeshift passage made by the dogs that now ran towards them. Their whines complemented the flat crunching of soil underfoot as they surrounded the two men—their distress as apparent as the dark mud covering their coats.

"Doctor—" Jack warned, gun drawn and walking slowly towards the door, mistakenly thinking that the scene was of something criminal in nature.

Jack knelt down and cautiously unlocked the door through the broken screen before he stepped through. Hannibal was happy for him to lead the way, only entering when the man repeated his title.

A hand braced against his chest before he could cross the threshold, but it was too late. Hannibal's nostrils were already widening to scent the pungent odours of dried slick and sweat.

"I don't think you should be here," Jack said, meaning that as an unmated alpha Hannibal had no business being near to Will at this vulnerable time—suggesting that Hannibal had as little self-control as a newly gendered, hormone addled alpha and would ravage the unsuspecting omega even with Jack as witness.

Hannibal barely contained his sneer at Jack's doubt but only just. Hannibal could and would withstand the temptation that was Will. For now.

"He is my friend," Hannibal said, eyeing the arm still blocking his way, "and as a doctor my only duty is to see him well."

Hannibal's stoicism and steady voice convinced Jack that his words were heartfelt, and he was allowed in.

Inside was magnificent. The room was humid with pheromones, and Hannibal could feel them beading in a moist layer over his skin. Everything that was Will—the complex odours of heat, thick and saccharine, coupled with the tang of slick, cum, and sweat long since dried was something Hannibal wished to smell to their source, following his nose until it found the skin that was pumping out these hormones; but with Jack watching, all he could was to catalogue each molecule to be remembered later in privacy.

The room was a mess—disorder barely contained. The pillows fallen from the chairs suggested Will had at one time sat on them before his fever became too much to remain upright. An overturned cup with some water still in its glass lay next to a cereal box—its plastic bag half pulled out and trailing sweetened flakes onto the floor—was a meal abandoned. Following their wake, the comforter was tangled at the foot of the bed where some of the dogs remained curled, heads cocking at their guests. The one Hannibal recognised as Winston whined, obviously confused and hungry. The dogs' bowls had been licked clean.

But it was the figure that lay on the bed that arrested his entire attention. Naked save for the sheet twisted between his legs, Will lay unmoving on his stomach with his face turned away from them. Coming to the edge of the bed, Hannibal could see that unseeing eyes were open a crack. He was so still, for a moment Hannibal's chest restricted; it was only when he saw the rise and fall of Will's that he was assured he was even still alive. Hannibal took a moment, taking in the sweat-dampened tangle of curls fanning over the pillow case, the miles of unblemished skin, and the dark sweep of eyelashes contrasting against flushed and gaunt cheeks. He was remarkable.

It was during his study that he noticed the subtle flare of Will's nostrils.

He had finally scented Hannibal.

The whites of his eyes rolled before deep blue latched onto the herringbone of Hannibal's suit leg. Will flung out an arm, blindly trying to grab Hannibal's knee as his hips rolled weakly—his lower back just barely tilting in an attempt to present. A suffering and sharp omegan whine rushed through parted lips before it dried out in a rasping croak, choked off despite his desire to entice the alpha before him.

Decency dictated that he stay out of Will's searching reach, but he longed to touch Will—to strip himself of his suit, cover the omega with his body, and bury himself deep until his knot locked them together. The pull of it flickered low in his belly even though the whine hadn't been full, which made Hannibal wonder how powerful it could be. He took a step back for propriety's sake, as Jack took a protective step towards the bed.

By the roving eyes and slack face, Hannibal knew Will was barely conscious of his surroundings, having little awareness that he was reaching for Hannibal or even why his body made him do such things. Will's upper lip was glued to his gums in a snarl showing off sharp, parted teeth, and Hannibal appreciated the feral look it afforded the omega; but he realised it—along with how Will was no longer sweating or producing slick—was a testament to how truly dehydrated he was. The poor man, after two and a half weeks in heat with only the company of his dogs, had been left adrift.

Hannibal allowed the events leading up to this one play within the pinhole of his mind. Will would have been prepared for the first few days, as it still fell within his normal duration. Hannibal imagined him coping with his affliction with a remote efficiency—neither taking pleasure beyond the orgasms he would have managed to achieve on his own nor lamenting in his sentence as an omega in heat. He would have stocked his fridge, fed his dogs, and made to wait through his heat with the practice of a mature omega.

The first extra half day would have gone unnoticed, melting away along with Will's concept of time during his heat. But when hours turned into days, he would have realised something wasn't right—that the dogs were whining more than usual, that his body was hotter—more tired—than usual. As time dragged on, so too did the fever. It would have been impossible for Will to comprehend how precarious his footing was as he followed the path of his heat for longer than he had ever done before. The fog of hormones, after days of building and crashing upon themselves, would have worked to overwhelm his system. Will would have found it hard to think beyond the holy trinity of need, desire, and lack; and as his fever burned through his body—made tired by his desperate ministrations to cool and fill it—would have blazed through energy reserves until he couldn't care for himself, his dogs—until he couldn't even leave his bed.

Dark circles bruised the thin skin underneath his eyes, speaking of the endless nights kept up by his excessive longing. The soiled sheets dried with cum, slick, and sweat displayed Will's valiant effort to quell it, but as weeks went without sustenance his body merely did not have the strength to comply. His heat stalled right at the precipice without the relief of climaxing, and Hannibal was amazed to see that his body continued to punish him the longer it was kept there. He was equally astonished to feel the beginnings of regret. From some primordial crag within his being, Hannibal felt the tug of his alpha instincts. He should have been available to provide for the omega.

Under Hannibal's scrutiny, Will's undulations devolved into uncontrolled jerks, looking more like a weak fit than any attempt at presenting. His chest hitched and his mouth twitched, signalling another failed attempt to whine before the alpha. Hannibal was relieved that that his parched vocal chords were incapable of vibrating, as that particular sound would have upset the veneer of calm Hannibal had cultivated. Incapacitated and desperate and wholly omega, that sound would have challenged Hannibal's ironclad reserves.

Even still, he found himself placing a broad palm across Will's exposed nape, absorbing its warmth. Will stopped his useless convulsing, melting bonelessly under Hannibal's hand with a sigh. When Hannibal squeezed the tense muscle, Will's eyes fluttered close in something akin to peace.

"Doctor, what's going on here?" Jack deferred to Hannibal as a physician and as an alpha. As a beta himself, he had very little exposure to omegas and their heats. He knew enough as the head of the Behavioural Analysis Unit to read the clues that littered the room and understand that they pointed unequivocally towards heat, but he lacked the particular receptors to decipher the sweet smell laced with a heady and intricate balm of chemicals. The pheromones secreted into the air were meant for Hannibal alone, and he breathed deep to take it all in.

"Will had cancelled his meeting with me all those weeks ago due to his scheduled heat, but as he confided in me then it should not have lasted more than a few days," Hannibal said, moving away from the bed and turning towards Jack, "It appears dear Will is still within the throes of his heat, weeks past its presumed end."

"It's been nearly three weeks. A heat this long… isn't normal," Even a beta knew that, "So why is this happening?"

Hannibal took a deep breath, overcome with feigned ignorance, "Any number of reasons. From outside stressors to internal imbalances laying waste to his biology. I cannot determine it beyond that it must have been a significant trauma to manifest in this way."

His words were purposefully selected to suggest that this was a normal occurrence with heats—that omegas regularly suffered upset to their cycles due to anxieties—anxieties that Jack encouraged with every phone call.

"Is this my doing? Did I break him?" Jack asked, eyes pinning Hannibal with hard stare, already weighted with blame.

"If so then we share that guilt. For if your dragging him to crimes scenes devastated his defences, then it was my negligence as his friend and a psychiatrist that let them crumble completely. I should have known to check him after he didn't arrive when he had promised. It would have saved us—and Will—considerable grief."

"You couldn't have known," Jack said as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, "This man needs a hospital."

"Jack," Hannibal couldn't allow him to call for an ambulance that would whisk Will away and undo everything that he had created.

At his name, Jack stopped dialling and let his thumb hover over the screen. When he knew he had his full attention, Hannibal made sure to look like he was struggling with his words, "We must consider the care that awaits Will at a facility equipped to provide for omegas. I fear he may never forgive us if he wakes up there."

While true that he would hate waking up in an omegan hospital, Will was intelligent enough when lucid to understand the medical danger he was currently in; he would want to find relief wherever it may be found even if it was in the walls of an antiquated hospital. These hospitals had barely advanced along with omegan rights and were known for distressing examples of gender inequality and questionable care. It was a fact that Hannibal knew would force Jack to reconsider.

Will would find his relief in Hannibal yet.

"Then what alternative do you suggest?"

The alpha within unfurled, replete and heavy under the surface of his skin. He thought Jack would never ask.


	2. Chapter 2

"He looks worse than I had expected," Dr. Sutcliffe said as he placed his medical bag and supplies on the bed next to Will's legs. He assessed the omega lying before him, "For the record, this could be a very bad idea."

Before he arrived, Hannibal had made sure that Will was presentable. With a stiff economy of movement bred from years of experience in the emergency room, Hannibal had turned him on his back and covered him with a clean sheet. Not once did his hands linger any longer than necessary, as Uncle Jack kept a watchful eye from the other side of the room where he paced in front of the hearth. That he could not smell the calming pheromones Hannibal radiated was none of the doctor's concern, as it dissolved Will's initially resistant body into one pliant under Hannibal's warm hands.

In a cruel twist of fate, Hannibal had yet to have Will on his own. When Jack had received a call from Beverly requiring his immediate return to Baltimore, Hannibal thought they would be afforded some privacy, but Jack had ended his call just as the smooth purr of an engine and tires gripping against gravel could be heard from the drive. Jack had left Will's home to see Sutcliffe exit his Lexus with enough time for their hurried introductions. With the two beta's co-ordinated schedules, alpha and omega were properly chaperoned seamlessly.

Despite Hannibal's gentle handling, the picture Will painted for the two doctors was still one of suffering. Deathly pale save for the fevered pits of blush on his cheeks, Will's skin was almost translucent in the dim light of Wolf Trap. The green-blue colour of his veins pressed up against paper-thin skin stretched over sharp bones, yet still—gaunt and unwashed—Will was by far the most beautiful Hannibal had ever seen him, for as much as he was overwhelmed by his extended heat, Will proved to be exceptionally receptive to Hannibal's presence. His pheromones had effectively lulled Will into absolute stillness. Even the loud and gauche entrance of Sutcliffe had no effect on Will.

"Duly noted," Hannibal replied, allowing Sutcliffe his piece, "But you will admit our plan is not without its advantages. Otherwise you would not be here."

His phone call had relied heavily on the strength of Sutcliffe's ambition to bend his already dubious morality and to eclipse any reservations he had in making this particular house call. As a specialised doctor at one of the very facilities Hannibal had disparaged to Jack, he treated hundreds of omegas every day. He had access to the equipment and conveniences that Hannibal did not, and he had the ability to track the effects of a forced heat of this length—ensuring Will's eventual good health, of course. But as a doctor at the omega centre, he was held accountable to his patients and superiors; he was bound by certain practices that restricted his professional curiosity. A chance to study an extraordinary heat cycle outside the limitations of his profession had been too enticing to ignore. It had been a simple task to convince the beta to come when Will's condition and private care were promised as his alone for the taking.

It was a shame that Hannibal hadn't discouraged Sutcliffe from the belief that his exclusive access was unlimited and not bound by the very same day of his visit.

"You're only too right," Sutcliffe said, slipping his hands into a pair of blue latex gloves, "As usual."

He passed a pair to Hannibal, "I think I'd rather do the lower body exam first—to get it out of the way."

Performing a rectal exam on an omega experiencing a heat was considered cruel at best, but occasionally medical care necessitated it. While it wasn't painful, dilation and stimulation of the anus could lead to uncomfortable and humiliating reactions for the omega that could impede the examination. It was why it was only ever performed during emergencies such as this.

Sutcliffe called to Will uselessly to alert him of his intentions—hoping in the odd chance the omega was conscious. When Will didn't stir, Sutcliffe nodded once and jotted something down in his moleskin notebook.

"Can you help me move him?" Sutcliffe asked as he moved to the side of the bed.

Hannibal positioned himself on the other side, and together they slipped their arms under Will's shoulders and thighs. Under their touch, his eyelids fluttered and he shivered. As they dragged him down to the bottom of the bed he began to groan lowly. The feeling of the rough sheets would be painful against his sensitive skin, and he only stopped when they released him. With his backside resting nearly at the edge of the bed and his legs spilling beyond it, they bent each knee to raise his legs and fit his feet to rest against the mattress near his ass. It was as close to the shape created by an examination table and stirrups as they could get.

His bent knees splayed to either side under gravity's pull, tenting the sheet that still covered his modesty. While Hannibal removed the sheet and folded it onto a nearby chair, Sutcliffe grabbed two of the fallen pillows from off the floor. He pressed them underneath Will's lower back, angling his tailbone and ass upwards to allow for easier access during the procedure.

Will was now fully exposed. His spread legs revealed his limp penis resting atop his testicles amongst dark, curly hair—chafed from weeks of ineffective masturbation; but more importantly, the angle allowed for the easy view of his puckered hole, tinted burgundy with heat. Hannibal felt his pupils engorge themselves at the sight, taking in as much of the visual feast before him as he was able. The longer he looked the more insistent his pulse throbbed, each beat inebriated with the omega's sex. He bit his tongue and savoured the taste of copper pooling hotly in his mouth.

Sutcliffe spread Will's cheeks and ran a gloved finger clinically against his hole, causing Will to shudder. He thought out loud, "No slick, so he's incapable of producing anymore, which means I'll need to start a drip as soon as I'm done here."

He pulled out from his bag a disposable plastic speculum and a squeeze bottle of lube. As he coated the outer blades with the synthetic oil, he turned to Hannibal and took in his rigid stance. He opened his mouth to say something before he thought better of it and situated himself between Will's legs.

"I might need you to hold him down," he said without looking over his shoulder. As soon as he pressed the tip of the speculum in, Will jerked awake. His eyes tracked the white ceiling unseeingly as he took in the device, inch by inch. Hannibal, having not moved from his place behind the doctor, watched him consume the plastic length greedily.

"Ha—!" Will jerked his hips up as Sutcliffe began to open the speculum, dislodging it from the doctor's hands. He ground his ass down, pressing the device against his rim, and then humped at the air. Hannibal watched as he created a shaky rhythm, and his keen eye didn't miss how Will's penis twitched.

"Hannibal?" Sutcliffe called, grabbing at one of Will's flexing legs.

Hannibal moved to the bedside, peeling his jacket off leisurely and carefully draping it over a nearby chair. He unbuttoned each of his cuffs—depositing the cufflinks safely in his pocket—and rolled them to his elbows before he put a hand on Will's other knee to keep it place. He watched as Will worked his jaw, his lips loosening into a vulnerable shape and revealing a slight under bite. As he continued to buck, Will grabbed great fistfuls of the sheet below him.

"Hng—"Will groaned again as Sutcliffe gripped the speculum anew. His eyes glazed over as he pushed down on the device in attempt to take all of it and more inside, all while continuing his jerky undulations.

Hannibal saw the way his flat stomach contracted with need, the taut skin rippling violently before he arched his back, lifting his rib cage until the fascia and muscles constricted the floating ribs and hollowed out his belly. Hannibal observed every ripple and flutter, and how Will's penis soon began to curve upwards. It was enrapturing, but his enthusiasm was making the procedure impossible.

Hannibal pressed a flat palm against Will's sternum, stretching his fingers wide until they covered his entire chest. Will burned beneath him, and the frantic knock of his heart answered Hannibal's touch in kind. With every twitch of his intercostal muscles, every stretch of his ribs to accommodate ragged gasps, Hannibal could feel the bones, tissue, and pulse that made up the omega, and it all sat underneath his hand.

"Stop," He said, the word said low and deliberate. Its edges burned with the beginnings of an alpha growl.

All at once Will froze save for a faint trembling that Hannibal excused due to the fever. Will locked eyes with Hannibal for the first time that he had arrived, and for a moment they were both held by each other's gaze. Then something flickered in Will's blue depths, briefly breaking through his haze. His mouth snapped shut with a noticeable clip of his teeth, his cupid's bow inflamed against the darker stubble. His brow began to furrow in recognition just as Sutcliffe began to dilate the speculum.

Will squeezed his eyes shut and moaned against his sealed lips, lost once again to the sensations of his body. He remained still, however, under Hannibal's grip—a grip that remained steadfast despite the excess pheromones now dripping off of the omega, filling the room with their heady aroma. With each deep breath, Hannibal pulled more and more of it over his olfactory system and into his lungs. In response, his own body was beginning to react, his pores pumping out answering pheromones in kind.

He had perhaps underestimated his attraction and the force of Will's biology.

Hannibal began to breathe shallowly through his mouth, in fear that the coiling heat in his belly would evolve into something unmanageable—a rut in answer to Will's heat.

"Got it," Sutcliffe called, rising from between Will's parted knees. He placed his capped swab into his medical bag and deposited the used speculum, cloudy with lube, into a plastic bin marked medical waste. He began writing in his notebook again, making a record of his findings, "Nothing out of the ordinary. If you discount the dehydration, he's a healthy, unmated omega."

Hannibal nodded, expecting nothing else, "Before this, I would have agreed."

"We'll see what the tests bring back. Let's move him back up for the rest of it."

Hannibal was surprised that he was resistant to the idea, as he didn't want to move his hand away from Will's chest, feeling as though the skin of his palm was fused there. It was with regret that he pulled it away, quickly chasing the heat of Will's body by pressing under his shoulders. With Sutcliffe's help, he pulled Will to the top of the bed, unravelling him from their impromptu exam table. Hannibal pulled the folded sheet up and over Will's uncovered legs to pool at his waist, eyeing the way the fabric tented over his erection.

Hannibal moved back, allowing Sutcliffe space to set up a saline drip. Hostility bloomed sour in his mouth as he watched the doctor's hands touch Will, picking up his limp hand and sterilising it. Hannibal sucked at his teeth, savouring the taste of it, as the catheter pierced Will's skin. The idea of Sutcliffe's unworthy hands fouling Will's overwrought body was intolerable, and Hannibal couldn't contain a brief scowl when the doctor pressed tape against the connecting hub, spending too much time rubbing the adhesive strip against his omega's hand—too much time stroking his omega's skin.

 _His_.

Hannibal's eyes tightened at the realisation, looking away to consider the strength and speed of his attachment. For all the ways he had envisioned the experiment in going, Hannibal hadn't thought he would be affected so profoundly. He had largely considered himself as an outside observer; after setting it in motion, he thought he would study the variables of the system he had created from afar. Never once did he consider that he himself would be a significant factor affecting his study. While he had always hoped Will would come to him to share with him his changing body, at this moment Hannibal realised that that wasn't enough—that scenario relied on too long of a timeline. He now understood it could only have one end and soon—an unbreakable bond formed with Will as his omega—and he would do everything within his power to have it.

Pinching himself, he focused on the twist of his skin instead of the way Sutcliffe palpitated Will's stomach or the way Will whimpered under his fingers. He didn't concentrate on how Will's neck and head were pliable under Sutcliffe's examination, or how Will sucked at the tongue depressor, moaning around its wooden length. Of course Hannibal didn't fixate on how Will's blood—the colour of his finest Cabernet Sauvignon—flooded the vials that Sutcliffe took and placed next to his swab.

These were all details Hannibal ignored for the deep, calming breaths that he took inside his mind palace. He walked down its halls until he passed through an archway leading to a moment collected from his adolescence. He sat in the gardens of his uncle's estate, and the heat of the sun warmed the breeze carrying the fresh scent of gardenias. He inhaled the bouquet they created, finding peace under the blue skies, before blinking back to the room before him. The dimensions of the walls were more distinct—the spaces in between clearer. The core of his being was unwavering in its calm, separate from the stifling haze of pheromones.

Level-headed once again, Hannibal was pleased to find Sutcliffe had distanced himself from Will during Hannibal's brief descent into his palace. He was fiddling with the IV, raising it far above the bed and securing it on a nail left in the wall.

"I've given him an anti-pyretic, just to ease it along for him. I have to be at the centre in an hour, so if I want to be there on time, I'll have to leave now," Sutcliffe said, finally turning to Hannibal.

Hannibal nodded graciously, forming the appropriate curve to his lips, "Of course. I've already taken up too much of your time."

Sutcliffe had the decency to dismiss Hannibal's comment as he grabbed his bag and supplies, "Nonsense. I should be thanking you. The results of this… could be very interesting. Will is a very special case," He took a deep breath, "This could make my career."

"Then consider us even," Hannibal broadened his lips, finding mirth in Sutcliffe's naivety, "But you have to promise you'll remember me from the peaks of success."

Sutcliffe laughed as he moved to the door, "I can be back within a week with the results, if you don't mind keeping me abreast of his condition? I don't have to advise treatment in the interim… You remember your training, don't you, doctor?"

Hannibal nodded, ushering him out the door. They had agreed they'd let the heat run its course on its own, with no medical help on their part, "Of course. Thank you again."

He watched as Sutcliffe folded himself into his car and circled in front of the porch to drive away. Hannibal didn't move until the Lexus disappeared into the horizon. Turning on his heels, he saw that Will had succumbed to his exhaustion and was sleeping soundly once again.

"Tsst," He called the dogs, opening the door and nodding towards the great outdoors. They quickly scrambled to their feet and ran outside, joining the few that were left out when Hannibal arrived. While they ran together, barking, Hannibal knelt next to the door and bent the screen back in. It sat unevenly against the wood, but it would do for now.

He stood, appraising the room before him. With his new found control, Hannibal could appreciate there were things that needed doing before he allowed his alpha instincts full reign. He placed the fallen pillows back to their rightful chairs and refolded an askew blanket. Picking up the abandoned glass and cereal box, he returned them to the kitchen. He found that the room was homely and worn, but spoke little of Will. The décor was obviously something that Will had inherited from the house's previous owners.

Hannibal slammed the fridge shut as soon as he opened it. The quick look revealed that the omega had filled it with groceries before his heat, but three weeks had been unkind to the produce. Hannibal's sensitive nose picked up traces of rotten broccoli and fusty tuna salad. He abandoned his search for food, deeming it unnecessary until Will was capable of eating. He would search his pantry for tinned items in the hopes of creating something edible later, but for now he settled for rooting through the cupboards for bowls. He found many in a large, lopsided stack—metal mixing bowls inserted into chipped ceramic ones with little thought to organisation. Hannibal selected the two ones on the bottom, for they were deep and wide. Turning on the tap, he let it run warm and then filled them halfway.

He placed them on the counter and left to find the washroom. The main floor only had a small water closet, so Hannibal climbed the stairs slowly in search for Will's shower. Surprisingly clean, it held none of the clutter that filled Will's main living space downstairs. In the shower on the lip of the bathtub, he found what he was looking—a bar of soap. It had the industrial smell of unscented soap, which was only less offensive than other, "fresh" scented cleansers. It, along with his drugstore brand shampoo, would have to go once they bonded. Finding a wash cloth in the drawer next to the sink, Hannibal left, descending the stairs.

With his supplies in tow, he returned to Will's bedside, sitting in the space between his hip and the edge of the bed, feeling the heat radiate from the omega despite the anti-pyretic. He dragged a thumbnail alongside Will's jaw bone and brought it to his mouth, hooking the nail over his canine. He savoured the salty collection, gritty with dried perspiration, and considered its bouquet. It would be better once the stale sweat was washed clean, leaving only Will's natural omegan flavour behind.

The act of cleansing Will would be the first of many liberties Hannibal planned on taking, eager to have the omega under his hands. Grooming his charge appealed to a side that hummed with alpha satisfaction. Dipping the washcloth into the water, he worked a thick lather with the bar of soap. Mindful of the IV catheter, he positioned Will's arms outwards so he could press the cloth into his armpits.

Dragging the soaking cloth over to his chest, soapy water collected over the hollow of his sternum. More of it trickled over the sides of his chest, following the paths of his ribs and soaking the sheet below. Hannibal pressed the cloth into the u-shape of Will's collarbone and followed his neck up to his jaw in a slow and methodical motion, feeling the thick cords of muscle with steady, sure hands. Will shifted with a sigh when the cotton was dragged behind his ears, yielding completely under the press of Hannibal's hand.

Hannibal watched as red marks pricked to the surface of his sensitive skin in the wake of every pass of the cloth. Moving to his stomach, Hannibal grabbed the sheet covering Will's lower body with his other hand and let it fall to the floor. It revealed how Will's body responded with arousal with every warm, soapy swipe Hannibal meted out. His penis was just stirring to life, still mostly limp when Hannibal grazed his hips.

He dunked the cloth back into the water and wrung it out loosely before following Will's hip creases down. He gathered Will's swelling cock in the material, considering the weight he held in his palm. He pressed at the foreskin, running the edge of the fabric against his head. Will's hips jerked, but with a quick look towards his face, Hannibal assured he was still asleep. Delving back to his testicles, he massaged them gently before pressing against Will's perineum.

Will's cock jumped at the contact as Hannibal rubbed at the smooth skin there. Dipping his other hand in the bowl until it was dripping with warm water, he ran a wet finger along the underside of his penis. He rubbed at the bar of soap, coating his hand in a slippery foam before he took Will in his hand and started to pump at his length slowly. He observed as he brought Will to a full erection, studying how his chest blotted pink the faster he pumped—how his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as the cloth dragged against his balls—how his hips started to twitch. He catalogued the small sounds Will began to make, little mewling noises that coincided with each jerk of his hips.

Even in sleep, Will matched Hannibal's fist with his own thrusts, his body desperate to follow the glorious friction. He had begun to shake as their co-ordinated movements worked to a crescendo—Will's soft keening, the rustle of sheets, and the obscene sound of Hannibal's slick fist deafening in the quiet of the room. Hannibal shifted in his seat as sweet omegan pheromones layered with Will's arousal drifted upwards, Hannibal felt himself press uncomfortably against the fabric of his trouser. As Will's hips began to lose their rhythm, he pressed a finger covered by the cloth into his clenching hole. He barely breached the ring of muscle when Will whined brokenly, immediately arching against the mattress. Above him, the alpha vibrated happily at Will's carnal release, pleased at how effortless it was to elicit such a reaction.

Hannibal scented the air as the omega below him shivered in aftershocks. There was still no hint of slick, his orgasm had been completely dry—Will was still too dehydrated to properly ejaculate. With a look to the saline drip that was still mostly full, Hannibal understood it would take a while before he could taste that particular intimacy.

He ignored his own arousal in favour of continuing his task. Will's thighs twitched as Hannibal pulled the cloth down the muscles, but his body was boneless as he finished cleaning the rest of him. He returned back to Will's stomach and inner thighs before pressing the cloth further into his backside, cleaning where the dried slick and spent cum from before were the most tenacious. It was as he was dragging the cloth over Will's flagging erection that he heard his cell phone ring.

Pulling it from his pocket, he noted the screen display before answering, "Jack."

"Dr. Lecter. How is he?"

"As well as to be expected. Doctor Sutcliffe has his samples and has left me to ensure that Will remains comfortable until he can determine the cause."

"And how is that going?"

Hannibal squeezed Will softly through the cloth and smiled, "It's well underhand."

"Good," Hannibal could picture other man was nodding solemnly, surveying his team of agents, "Good. I need him back in the game as soon as possible."

Balancing the phone in the crook of his ear, he rinsed the cloth out and submerged it into the untouched water. He barely wrung it out before he dragged it over Will to rinse the remaining suds away, uncaring that the mattress below was now soaking. It would serve to dilute the sweat dried into its material.

"That will be up to Will when he is better." Hannibal reminded him, as he took the corner of the cloth and ran it softly along Will's lash line, rubbing at the grit. He stared at his face reverently, foreseeing a future that allowed Hannibal greater access to crime scenes with Will as his omega; he would see the way his face would darken with the shadow of other killer's thoughts.

"Of course," Jack said. Hannibal could hear muffled voiced in the background, obviously asking Jack of his attention, "I have to go, Dr. Lecter, but I'll call back to see how he is soon."

"Please do," Hannibal said as he pressed his nose into the crook of Will's arm, smelling just the scent of skin, soap, and the ever present perfume of his heat. "Perhaps next time you do you can speak with him yourself."

He bid Jack a quick goodbye and succinctly placed his cell phone on the bedside table beside the bowls. He dipped his head to the hollow of Will's neck, where the scent of omega was the strongest. He growled low and throaty with the thought that soon, he would claim Will as his own. He would just have to wait until Will was awake.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal was nothing if not patient. Like any good intellectual pilgrim, he was no stranger to sojourning in wait and biding his time. In fact, he relished the time spent comparing all possible realities against his own expectations.

Were these deliberations over anyone else but Will – that the thrill of anticipation thrummed so hotly in his veins for anyone else – Hannibal would have scoffed at his level of investment – resentful of the implication that he cared one way or the other. But as it was, he was under no mistake that he was swayed by the very same tendrils of fate that he observed affect his own work. Not now, when the evidence of his desperate loitering in Will's kitchen suggested otherwise.

He knew empirically that his patience had limits, as his alpha instincts would not wait an eternity to have his desires fulfilled. He would only rather that he didn't have to rely on force to get what he wanted, as he understood what truly hung in the balance. Taking him now, unconscious and dry, would present Hannibal as questionable and cruel, possibly ruining his chances at properly bonding with the omega forever. His actions here today would lay the groundwork for a life-long partnership, so he couldn't allow himself to be rash; rather, he would wait until Will's ready to take his knot.

He would wait until Will demanded it of him.

He needed Will to trust him implicitly, following the flare of Hannibal's light against the darkened sky as the only way to safety; which is why, in the time it took Will to go through two saline solutions, Hannibal did not take what wasn't his – yet.

Instead, he forcibly removed himself from temptation and lost himself to the distractions that were feeding Will's dogs, cleaning out the fridge, making several trays of ice, and starting a very basic pasta e fagioli for when Will had enough strength to eat.

It wouldn't be his best dish to date, but with little else in the pantry at his disposal, it would suffice. Once Will was well enough he would require some sort of nourishment and Hannibal would be the one to provide it. That he looked forward to seeing the look of amazement when Will realised what he had put together was a curious feeling that didn't quite reach amusement. He had impressed others with far more ostentatious displays, yet it was the attention of this particular omega that fascinated him and made him swell with pride.

Waiting also allowed him to consider how deeply he was affected by the bedridden omega this afternoon. To watch him unravel all on his own wasn't enough, but Hannibal didn't despair in his newfound bias; he didn't begrudge his role now as actor. With a quirk of his lips, he realised it for the opportunity that it was. Being susceptible to his own device would work in his favour.

The sun was looming close to the horizon, leaking reds and oranges in a purpling sky, when Hannibal left the sauce to simmer for the living room. Since his arrival with Jack, the room had cooled and the air cleared. For the moment, it seemed as though Will's body had burnt itself out. The smell of heat was still obvious, but it wasn't the urgent bog of pheromones that had almost unseated Hannibal's control earlier. It was a softer, less insistent sweetness that hinted of promise.

He turned on the lamp next to the bed, giving himself enough light to work by to switch out another saline bag. After receiving much needed electrolytes and fluids, Hannibal was happy to see that Will was looking much better – still tired and flushed but no longer so pinched at the edges.

It was while evaluating the drips pace when he noticed Will starting to stir. The omega scrunched up his shoulders and stretched his back with a groan.

"Eugh," he said as he blinked his eyes open. It was refreshing to see that they were clear for once – the saline having dispelled some of his confusion – and the blues of his irises were nearly brown in the lamp light. For a moment he stared at Hannibal, unguarded in the transitional space between waking and sleep.

His eyes widened in alarm when his position and condition dawned at him at once, averting his eyes to the knot of Hannibal's tie.

"Dr. Lecter," he coughed weakly, "Why are you here? My heat—"

"Shh, Will," Hannibal said, permitting himself to push the hair back from Will's forehead, "Don't fret. I'm here only in the capacity of a doctor."

Will struggled for a moment to rise further up on his pillow but stopped when he felt the tug of his IV; he stared at the back of his hand in confusion.

"You're ill, suffering from an unclear condition – some sort of heat sickness."

Unable to follow his meaning, Will shook his head, allowing the furrow in his brow to deepen, "Wha—?"

"It's been nearly three weeks since you said your heat was to start. Jack brought me here when you didn't answer your phone calls."

"Phone ca—," his abused voice broke, throat clicking audibly a few times as he attempted and failed to generate saliva. He pressed against his pillow in defeat and kneaded his forehead, clearing suffering from a headache. It was genuinely captivating.

"You're dehydrated. A moment, Will," Hannibal said he rose from the bed, allowing Will to compose himself in privacy as he ventured to the kitchen for water and ice. Hannibal took it as an opportunity to evaluate his options. Will's behaviour was encouraging. While it wasn't exactly the wonton performance of the afternoon, his hormones would eventually cycle back to that level of exigency. As it was now, at his most coherent since Hannibal arrived, he did not reject the alpha. Though wary, Will trusted his friend.

With his bounty in hand, he returned and sat next to Will, mindful of the wet patches on the mattress from his earlier sponge bath.

"An ice cube – to soothe your throat and then maybe we can see if you can tolerate a glass of water," Hannibal said as he pressed a chip against Will's parted lips. Will opened them wider to accept the ice, and Hannibal felt the heat of his tongue dart out and swipe against his fingers.

Hannibal watched as Will's eyelids fluttered close as the ice began to melt in his mouth, leaking refreshing cool water of his parched tongue. He groaned in contentment, sucking at the cube with enough force to hollow out his cheeks.

Hannibal parted his lips in astonishment when Will angled his chin up, baring his throat without a thought of Hannibal's presence – the feel of the water trickling down his throat far more absorbing than their position. Something hot coiled low in his belly at the display, making Hannibal greedy for more and reckless to have it.

"Another?" Hannibal asked even as he was pressing a second ice chip against Will's pursed lips, eager to provide and to fill. It had already begun to melt in his fingers, dripping down his wrist to his elbow where it was absorbed by his shirt. Heedless of the state of his cuffs, Hannibal watched as a trail of water flowed over Will's chin and down his neck.

That Will only hummed as he turned the cubes wetly within his mouth without opening his eyes or repositioning his neck suggested that he was enchanted by the attention as much as Hannibal was giving it. The danger of attracting such notice from Hannibal's kind went unrecognised, and what little doubt he had for being near Hannibal was dissolving under the sensation of being cared for by such an imposing alpha. It was only natural, Hannibal knew.

There was a quiet sound to be heard – barely audible. While watching his omega, he struggled to focus his ears beyond the sharp clink of ice against his teeth.

Hannibal marvelled; he could scarcely hear a click within Will's chest. His omega was purring – or attempting to. He wondered if Will was even aware of it himself. Hannibal knew when he was healthy it would be a deep, strong sound that would vibrate his whole chest cavity – one that Hannibal would encourage at every juncture.

Emboldened by his reception and curious as to what it would look like, Hannibal pushed two more ice cubes together into Will's mouth, followed by another – the mood not requiring that he ask for permission. The four chips shifted awkwardly within his mouth, competing for space with his tongue, and Will's previously hollow cheeks curved outwards to accommodate the extra pieces. His lips pursed in a crude parody of a kiss – a not-so sleeping beauty awaiting his prince. Hannibal unconsciously licked his own lips when he saw water begin to seep from the wrinkles in Will's and drip from the corners of his mouth.

Will slurred something around the ice that Hannibal didn't quite catch.

Instead, he appraised the omega below him as the crunching sound of glacial mastication joined the failed purr. Widening his nostrils, he gently scented the air. Will smelled clean and warm and slightly of caramelised sugar, having found some relief from the hours of hydrated rest. But far at the edges, there was something piquant that Hannibal could hardly place. It would only be a matter of time before the heat would reawaken something within Will and the fever and its thick syrup would return.

He was relying on it.

"Perhaps we can move to the water, then."

Hannibal placed his hand purposefully shy of the sensitive nape and lifted. His hand was close enough for Will to notice but distant enough that Hannibal knew the omega would not protest the motion. He was, after all, a friend foremost and a doctor second. Will would blame the gasp that passed his lips – breathy and quick – on his own sensitivity and not the doctor.

His head fit naturally in Hannibal's palm, and he appreciated the weight as he angled Will towards the cup. He watched affectionately as Will slurped loudly at the water, getting more down his cheeks and neck than down his throat. His focus on the cup was an obvious distraction for the way Hannibal's fingers brushed at his nape.

When he pulled the lip of the glass away from Will's mouth, he shuddered to follow it.

"Nnn," He whined plaintively with glistening lips. He shook his head when Hannibal released him to the pillow.

Greedy thing, a fact he filed away for later. Instead, he merely said, "Ah, only sips. We wouldn't want you getting sick."

Will raised his eyebrows, suggesting he didn't believe in the doctor's orders but sank against the pillow and basked in the feeling of having finally wetted his lips. For a moment silence descended upon the room, as Will turned his focus internally and considered the events that led him to his bed with Hannibal at his side. He found that he wasn't able to account for it. His eyes searched the room around them, avoiding Hannibal at all costs.

"What happened?"

Hannibal tilted his head in the closest expression he would get to a shrug, "It's uncertain, but you are most definitely ill."

"Well that much is obvious," Will seemed to catch himself and the snark that he knew Hannibal wouldn't care for, amending his tone before continuing, "It's seriously been three weeks since we last spoke?"

"More or less. You've missed two of our dinners and countless calls from Jack."

Will stared at the ceiling as he digested the information, contorting his face against the strength of his thoughts. Hannibal wished to lick the look off of his face, deepening his tongue until he could taste everything he had to offer – until he could taste the very thoughts that made his lips ripple in distaste.

"You feel betrayed."

"Betrayal suggests anger, Doctor Lecter. No – this is resignation. I hold my body no more culpable for where it's put me than I blame you. There's no loyalty in omegan biology," he screwed up his mouth as if the very taste of the words bothered him, "so I'm not betrayed. I'm no victim of it. I merely endure through a fluctuation of embarrassing instincts to copulate."

Hannibal was surprised, having not detected such opinions during that fateful night by the fire.

"Do you think so little of your own biology?"

Will caught Hannibal's eyes before darting away, "So you think so highly of yours?"

"I am more than a sum of my biological impulses. If I were, would we be able to have this very conversation?"

"I'm not going to debate behavioural epigenetics from my bed," Will lifted the sheet covering his body to peak at what it was covering and groaned, "especially not when I'm naked."

Hannibal smiled softly, charmed by his blushing, "My apologies. One should be wearing underwear for this kind of conversation at the very least."

"Speaking of, can you grab me a pair? I need to get up."

A flash of Will attempting to flee ignited dormant nerves Hannibal had previously ignored.

"Will, I suggest you stay in bed."

"I have to go to the bathroom, Dr. Lecter, and I don't suggest waiting much longer."

The thought of Will soiling the bed was unsavoury. Having already seen enough over the past weeks, the bed didn't need any more abuse, so Hannibal stood in search of clothing. He smiled when he found Will's boxers folded next to his undershirts, creased with equal care. When he turned around he found Will listing from the upright position he managed to pull himself up to.

"And a t-shirt?" Will gasped, seeing only the boxers in Hannibal's hand.

"I'm afraid it wouldn't fit over your IV," Hannibal said. He didn't suggest unhooking it for the brief time it would take to loop his hand through the arm hole, hiding the disappointment that Will felt he needed to cover up so thoroughly in his presence and quietly revelling in the private moments he had stolen earlier this afternoon.

He turned around as Will began to shimmy his underwear on underneath the cover of his sheets. When the sound of rustling went on too long, Hannibal realised he had donned his boxers and was now attempting to rise on his own. He was bent nearly in half, feet against the ground and hands gripping the side of his bed so tight the whites of his knuckles showed.

"Allow me to help, Will," Hannibal moved before Will could protest, wasting no time pushing the jut of his shoulder into Will's arm pit, linking his arm around his bare waist, and grabbing at his wrist to pull over his own shoulder and him on his feet. Beneath his hands, Will was warm but dry. The smell of burnt sugar was stronger with proximity.

Will flinched at the contact and attempted to move so that their bodies didn't meet in so many places. Once on his feet, however, his determination flagged, as the effort to stay upright after being horizontal for so long was too much. Each step they took towards the small water closet, the more weight Will allowed Hannibal to take, until finally Hannibal took the majority of it. By the time they reached the door, Will was pressed close against Hannibal.

When Hannibal moved his hand from Will's wrist towards the door handle, Will shuddered in his grasp.

"I can do this on my own," Will gasped, voice reed thin from exertion, "Thank you."

Hannibal was dubious but allowed Will this moment of independence, reticent to exert control at this – such an inconsequential moment. He watched him stagger deeper into the bathroom, gripping at the door, the sink, and finally the wall to stand before the toilet. He turned away but didn't stray far from the door, in case Will required any help.

The simple act of urination seemed to have drained what little energy Will had stockpiled, and he made no struggle against the flush press of their bodies during the slow walk back towards the bed. Hannibal delighted in the heaviness of his limb across his shoulders and the shuffle of Will's feet next to his that allowed him to manipulate the omega across the room. When Will's head lolled against his shoulder, Hannibal didn't stiffen but rather embraced the additional burden.

"I don't know why 'm so tired," Will said spoke into Hannibal's neck.

"It's been too long since you've been on your feet," Hannibal reminded gently.

"Oh… right," Will said distantly after a time, as if he didn't remember and shook his head as though to dispel the thick padding of cotton that filled the space between his ears.

They were still making their way towards the bed when the sound of the omega scenting him rang out very loudly and obviously in the quiet room. Weakened as he was, Will had no idea that his quick and shallow inhales against Hannibal's dress shirt were such a blatant display of scenting, nor did he realise what it was doing to the alpha. Hannibal made no outward sign but it bred an internal tempest furiously rioting at the omega's obviously interest.

Perhaps the heat would overturn sooner than Hannibal anticipated. The alpha within shuddered with delight at the thought.

Hannibal deposited Will carefully onto the bed, and the omega sank into the mattress, attempting to catch his breath. Above him, Hannibal took a moment to watch him shudder with exertion, the subtle flex of muscle and expansion of bone suggesting just how supple and flexible the omega was. His his upper lip began to prickle with sweat, making it twitch; the skin along the back of his body began to sing.

But below, nothing.

He had to leave before he did something to jeopardise everything, so he grabbed the water glass currently leaving a wet ring on the wood of the nightstand and brought it to clink against the metal of the sink, letting it sit in its basin until it filled with more water. There he took a calming breath, trying to master an itching body.

When Hannibal returned, he picked up a sweet note in the air that had been absent since Will's bath. He compared it to the catalogue of scents and tang of hormones from before, knowing what he remembered signalled things were changing and the small period of clarity was drawing to a close. He couldn't help but think – brag – it was his scent that was the impetus for such a shift.

Hannibal wondered if Will was aware how quickly his body transitioned from one stage to the next. How within less than a few minutes he went from dormant to reactive.

At the clink of the glass hitting the bedside table, Will opened his eyes and met Hannibal's gaze. They had taken on a rhumey glaze that complemented the blush on his cheeks, and Hannibal knew that he was lost to him. Will's lashes fluttered as he no doubt felt the heat of the flush Hannibal saw blossoming across his bare chest. He began to squirm where he lay against the fever that had begun anew.

"Dr. Lecter," Will started but blinked when nothing followed, seemingly confused that the words failed to fill in the empty spaces on their own. The fever had come upon suddenly.

"Thirsty," Will licked his lips, catching the bottom on with his upper incisors, "Warm," he added for good measure.

There it was – finally – slick so fresh Hannibal could practically taste it was lacing the air.


	4. Chapter 4

With the room cleared of its bad humours and the omega's body washed clean, the scent of heat-thickened slick was full, and it dominated the space shared between them. Its individual notes were stronger and sharper when not wrestling for precedence with old sweat and expired air. They came together to make a treacle that coated the sensitive tissue lining Hannibal's nose until it was all that he could smell.

Gone were the dogs and the scent of their oily fur. The smell of the old house heated by a dust-clogged furnace system disappeared, vanishing along with the faint aroma of his sauce simmering in the kitchen.

All that was left was the humid miasma of omega descending upon the room like a dense fog, blurring all definitions and consuming Hannibal. It burned through his nasal cavity as he breathed, razing a trail down his trachea where it ignited in his lungs. He took deep lungfuls of it, despite the wet heat, or perhaps because of it. Wanting as much of it inside him where it would diffuse through the thin layer of his alveoli to the capillaries wrapped around his lungs, to the pulmonary vein, ultimately finding its way to his heart. With each jarring pulse of it, omegan-rich blood would circulate, alighting every vessel and tissue it touched on its journey, awakening certain parts of him that he had kept hidden.

He took another deep breath, expelling it and filling his lungs again as soon as he was able, desperate to have more.

He could already feel his body responding. The tips of his fingers tingled, feeling swollen with blood and clumsy when they twitched against his thighs; the skin above them at his wrists throbbed with his pulse. His stomach seemed the size of his whole torso, overturning in time to the beat of his heart to stir something dark and heavy into wakefulness. Sweat prickled along his hair line from pores that would be pumping his own alpha scent to join in the bog.

Below him, Will blinked up from his place on the bed, where Hannibal knew the scent was at its most concentrated. Yet, the omega flared his nostrils and instantly detected the pheromones of a powerful alpha amongst his own – his fever-glazed eyes widening when he identified the source.

"Hannibal," he said on a shaky whisper.

A flush marked the back of his neck at the low rumble, feeling unbearably hot at his stiff collar. Hannibal didn't move – wouldn't – as even a shuffle of his foot against the carpet would be enough reason to launch himself at the bed and devour the trembling omega. There would be time enough for that, but only at the precise moment. Instead he stood frozen as the smell of slick filled the room.

"Hannibal," Will whimpered, obviously feeling the gush of it between his legs, "Please—"

At the sharp pain in his palm, Hannibal realised he had been holding his hands in such a tight fist that his nails broke skin. He watched the blood follow the shallow lines of his palms, filling their small quarries with rust.

"Please, what?" His own voice sounded strange to his ears. Far away and strained.

Tearing his eyes away from his hand, Hannibal could tell his response displeased Will, as a grimace carved lines into his brow. Will was sure that the alpha knew what he wanted, confused that Hannibal wasn't reading and following the biological script.

"Fuck me," He pushed himself to his elbows and shifted to grip Hannibal's hand and missing when the alpha took a step back.

Against every impulse screaming otherwise, Hannibal forced another step back with legs made of lead. His heart was made heavy from the action of it, clenching a sharp pain in his chest, and he didn't need to force the distress into his voice when he spoke.

"Will, we ca—"

The answering growl tightened the coil deep within Hannibal's belly, and he felt himself growing hard from the violence of it, uncomfortable against the zipper. He didn't move closer; he was still waiting, body buzzing. Will ripped the IV lead from his hand.

"Fuck me," Will was more insistent, voice made steel with conviction, "Fill me."

Will pushed himself to his knees with a face creased with fevered intensity, eyes sharply evaluating what should be the big bad predator in the room. Lips glistening and chest gleaming with sweat, a hand fondling the front of his boxers, he looked as if he had already been pursued and caught. Now it was only time to be tasted, yet he was a treat left unsampled.

Hannibal wondered how Will's full bouquet would bloom across his tongue, his mouth salivating at the thought. He wanted more than anything to retrace his steps and continue until he crushed Will to the bed. But he had to wait. A single bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Only a little longer, he anticipated. He was breathing hard against the strain, unintentionally drawing in more pheromones. His restraint was at its breaking point.

"Please—"

Hannibal gritted his teeth, feeling sick, as he slid his foot backwards against the carpet. He braced himself for another step backwards when Will opened his mouth.

The omegan whine reverberated sharply throughout the room. Its timber was deep and strong – such a marked change from earlier – that it froze Hannibal to the spot. It was only a short cry, yet Hannibal could hear it echoing in his mind, playing over and over again, its loop overlapping itself and crashing over, creating an insistent and powerful melody in tune with the wild beat of his heart. He swayed in time with it, body heavy and his stomach roiling tight with longing. Icy heat flowed from head to toe, tingling throughout his entire body, and the feeling centralised at his chest, where invisible ropes tethered Hannibal to the omega before him – the omega who held the ties and pulled.

He was moving forwards through the sultry haze with a growl, all thought of why he waited to touch his omega gone, as was everything else in his mind except for need. Desire had razed through all other thought processes and Hannibal let it.

Their mouths met with the sharp sound of teeth striking together, and Hannibal's skull vibrated from the force of it. He took it as the opportunity to suck at Will's lower lip, pulling the plump tissue between his teeth and nipping softly before slipping his tongue between Will's parted lips. The omega moaned, eager for the warm press of Hannibal's tongue against his own.

They groped at each other, as frantic urgency heated their veins and forced them into hurried action. They rutted until their bodies were flush against each other, close enough that the persistent press of Will's erection could be felt through the thick fabric of Hannibal's pants. For a moment, desperate for the friction created by their frenzied bodies, Hannibal was content just to rock his own erection against Will's hip.

Their mouths worked to taste each other, until they breathed in huffs and pants. Breaking free with a gasp, Hannibal pulled at his tie and began to unbutton his shirt with shaking fingers. Will meanwhile wriggled against him, bucking his hips and generally getting in the way of Hannibal's undressing. His mouth – his hands – were everywhere they should and shouldn't be, making it impossible to strip. Hannibal groaned when Will's mouth latched onto his newly bared collarbone, tonguing at the exposed skin.

His hands halted at his belt, abandoning the intricacies of its buckle to appreciate the warm mouth against his skin, the heat of which scorched a track of longing that went straight to his dick. He grunted as his back met the bedspread with a thud, finding himself straddled by the omega. Hannibal could feel his ears flushing at his position below, vulnerable despite being the larger, stronger of the two, and yet he was so hard it hurt, desire straining against skin and fabric that he felt like he could split. Above him, Will's eyes were hooded and dark with lust; his mouth was slack as he slotted his damp boxer shorts over Hannibal's crotch, gasping when he felt the hard press of his erection in the clef of his ass.

Will's fingers dug painfully into the meat of Hannibal's shoulders as he ground down, pinning the alpha to the bed as he chased the glorious friction he needed. His harried movements were not quite co-ordinated enough to find it – delirious as he was with heat – and he grunted when his frantic attempts served to only tease the both of them more than anything.

It was too much and not enough. With desire pulsing strength into his veins, Hannibal surged forward and sent Will crashing backwards on the bed. His head met the headboard with a hollow knock, shortly followed by a quiet mewl of pain. Will writhed on his back, slightly confused by the change of altitude, but his hand quickly found its way into his boxers as he watched Hannibal tower over him.

A thrilling wave of heat rippled through Hannibal's belly, as he watched Will play with himself. He worked to free himself from his clothes faster than before, heedless of the creases that would eventually mar the fabric, wanting to replace any need for Will to touch himself.

"Hnng," Will pressed his eyes closed after one pull proved to be especially pleasurable, slurring something between tight lips, legs kicking at the mattress.

When he opened his eyes again, Hannibal was naked. Will moaned at the sight of his thick, alpha cock bobbing stiff against his stomach, leaving a trail of wetness from where it rubbed. He only let him a moment to admire the view before he bent to rip the boxers off of his omega, revealing Will just as hard as Hannibal, hand paused in a tight grip at the root.

"Fuck—" Words turned to groans as Hannibal wrenched Will's legs and widened his parted knees, opening them and slotting into a space made for him and him alone. With a large hand against the back of Will's thigh, Hannibal rocked him back. He encouraged him to fold his body until Will could hook one leg over Hannibal's shoulder and press down against the mattress with the other. Hannibal's heart skipped a beat as he was offered all that he hoped for and he was momentarily dizzy with the opportunity. Before him, Will's wet hole clenched in anticipation and the latest contraction of muscles allowed another gush of slick to coat his skin.

Eager to finally taste what had been teasing him the whole day, Hannibal pressed his cheeks apart and ran a tongue against Will's hole. The mature tang of fever and sweetness burst across his taste buds, and even under lust's full sway, Hannibal closed his eyes to savour it. A second swipe revealed the typical omega base notes and something savoury within the slick. A third lick, followed by a long, sucking kiss, caused a breathy, high pitched moan to escape the omega.

Hannibal growled as the hook of Will's grew sharp and insistent, the vibration of which travelled through their fused skin and caused Will to twitch even more. When Hannibal pulled away, a strand of slick clung to his lower lip, only snapping when he met Will's eyes. His tongue quickly swiped over his lips to chase the lingering taste of Will, and the omega copied the motion.

"Please," Will's voice hitched just as Hannibal pressed a finger against his hole, cursing when the first finger passed the ring of muscles.

"Please, what?" Hannibal's voice was stronger now, deeper and more certain than it was before.

"Nng, more," Will rasped, pressing his cheek against the pillow.

Hannibal drew his finger in and out, slowly crooking it at the knuckle as Will writhed beneath, flushed, pink, and overwhelmed. He reached out with his other hand to hold Will's neck tight enough to feel his erratic heartbeat, keeping him still for when he pressed his lips against his mouth. It was easy enough to add a second to repeat the process as they kissed. A third pressed in as easily as his tongue found entrance into Will's mouth. Inside, Will was hot and firm and wet..

"Hnng, fuck, Hannibal."

Still pressing inside him and twisting his fingers, Will's hips bucked when Hannibal finally passed over a cluster of nerves. The husky groan that it elicited had Hannibal opening his mouth to swallow it and taste the other's pleasure. It was brackish and needy and it burned everything anew. Hannibal ached with the need to slide in and find release between Will's thighs.

Spreading the slick that coated his fingers over the length of his penis, Hannibal pumped it twice before he lined up his glistening cock to Will's hole. He waited until their eyes met before he pressed in. Will moaned again, hand still wrapped around his own dick, as he was stretched to accommodate the girth. Strong muscles constricted around Hannibal, who faltered – worried that he'd cum right there. Marvelling at the man below him, Hannibal rocked his hips gently, setting a slow pace that he could manage. Still, he panted with restraint. His waiting game this afternoon and the slow burn of Will's heat had worked against him.

Hannibal quickly found his back hitting the mattress once again, as Will pushed him over. For a moment his penis bobbed uselessly between them, wet and cold, and then Will straddled his hip and took him again. His palms pressed into Hannibal's yielding belly for balance as he began to fuck himself. Hannibal was overwhelmed with his shameless pursuit of pleasure, caught up with the strong angles of his arms and the insistent force of his body. Hannibal grabbed Will's hips in a crushing grip that was sure to bruise, matching him with snapping thrust with no thought of endurance – increasing their pace until they were both gasping and sweat dripped from their bodies.

Will cried out as he finally found the collection of nerves he had been digging for, angling himself so that Hannibal – sheathed to the hilt – could continue to press against the hardening cluster. They continued to undulate, with Will becoming increasingly unco-ordinated as he crept closer and closer to the edge. Hannibal wasn't too far behind, seeing the bright light of his own climax nearing ever faster.

His knot was beginning to grow, catching with each thrust. Soon it would swell large enough that they would be linked together – unmovable except in union. As it was, Hannibal could already tell he was testing Will's limits. And his own; he couldn't help the little grunts that escaped his closed mouth, for the growing tight feeling at the base of his penis made it incredibly sensitive to every thrust and grind.

Without slowing, a slight furrow of Will's brow was all that showed as he continued to grind – his voice silenced with pleasure until finally coming with a shout and spurting thick cords over Hannibal's chest. He shivered as he rode out the aftershocks, slowly fisting himself while he convulsed around Hannibal's knot. Hannibal thrusted desperately despite now being fully locked together – the feel of each contraction milking his length was exquisite.

Will keened softly when Hannibal rubbed against oversensitive nerves, and the high pitched noise went straight to Hannibal's groin. Hannibal grabbed at his Will's ass and lifted him, moving him back onto the bed so that Hannibal slotted between his bent legs. Lightheaded as electricity crackled low in his belly, Hannibal snapped his hips up one more time before he took the meat of Will's neck between his teeth and bit down.

"Alpha!" Will cried out as his blood spurted hot and metallic in Hannibal's mouth.

It was then that he followed Will into climax, his orgasm driving through his body so hard it left his ears ringing and his feet numb. He could barely hear Will as he throbbed inside him, spasming with blessed relief.

Hannibal's arms collapsed as he melted into Will, fitting their torsos close. Teeth still clamped over his omega's neck, Hannibal held him tight enough to feel their heartbeats thud wildly against each other's chests. They were both sweaty and sticky – sealed by Hannibal's knot and Will's cum – and for a moment the only noise in the room was their chests heaving with breath. Soon it was joined by the soft, wet lapping noise of Hannibal's tongue as he licked and sucked at the broken flesh. It had already stopped bleeding but Hannibal worried the wound, wanting to make the mark permanent, wanting to taste the flavour of his omega. He could feel the strong cords of muscles in Will's neck work with every swipe of his tongue – the omega's voice giving way to breathy moans. The tang of copper and the trace of sweat created a particular perfume, causing Hannibal to swirl over the marks he left behind.

Hannibal pulled back and watched as Will jerked below with a cry, riding out a second orgasm with lips parted. He buried his head into the crook of Will's neck when he felt the muscles around his knot convulse, triggering his own. He groaned, breathing deep of the smell of Will's skin as he came.

They stayed like that, spent, for a few moments to revel before Will groaned. Both winced when Hannibal shifted, pulling at his knot, so that he could examine his omega's face.

Will looked stunned as he traced the bond mark on his neck with a single finger, "Oh my god."

His eyes looked clear again as they traced invisible lines on the ceiling, though their lids hung low with exhaustion.

"My psychiatrist…"

"I apologise, Will," Hannibal shifted purposefully to tug on his knot and emphasise their union, which elicited a grunt from Will. He opted not to argue semantics about his role in Will's therapy, "I never should have come here."

Will swallowed thickly, "No – I… I mean yes but… I used my cry," He threw an arm over his eyes, "Oh god."

He missed the slight smile that graced Hannibal's lips, who draped himself over Will's chest again. Will sighed, reacting unconsciously to the comforting weight of his alpha.

"I thought I could help you, but I significantly misjudged my strength of mind," Hannibal spoke into his neck so that his breath ghosted over the bond mark, teasing the sensitized skin. His omega shuddered.

"This isn't a conversation I want to have here… now," Will said, working his jaw. He frowned, "when I think I feel like fucking you as soon as we can move again."

"In that case, we don't need to speak," Hannibal said before he closed his lips around the mark again, fingers reaching for the skin where they were fused.

"What you're telling me is, is that all of this is your fault?"

Will sighed and worked the skin of his brow with his fingers, shrinking in his seat before Jack, who elected to stand. Hannibal sympathised with Will, as that was clearly an oversimplification of things, and he too was tired after how they spent their evening.

After several hours and many different positions later, the two had escaped the pull of Will's heat to shower and dress themselves in time for Jack's impromptu visit. He arrived when Hannibal had expected to sample his pasta e fagioli with the ultimate goal of finding their way back to bed. Though they now sat side-by-side on the mattress, Hannibal would have preferred to be sitting closer – without company.

They were only entertaining because, during the hours spent learning each other's bodies, they had ignored exactly four of Jack's calls. Two was enough to warrant his concern, and the remaining two were made during the late-night drive to Wolf Trap. Now he stood a hulking monolith in the middle of Will's living room, drawing the shadows around him in the dim lamplight. He glowered as if it was some sort of joke he hadn't sussed out yet.

"Then explain to me exactly what's going on." He looked at Hannibal, suspicious now and thinking back to the early morning – wishing that he had done more to bar the alpha from entering Will's home.

"Due to my…" Will flinched, "impaired judgement, I… took advantage of the doctor and we…" Will stopped, apparently not willing to put their evening into words. He blinked, upset with Jack's encroachment and clearly tired from his ordeal despite Hannibal's best intentions. He needed to eat and sleep properly. Hannibal even mused over the use of the final saline bag that Dr. Sutcliffe had left.

Hannibal turned to Jack, "The good news is, whatever was ailing Will has – for now at least – come to an end."

"At the sake of what? Your personal lives?"

Hannibal bristled, at the slight to both of them, not for the first time wishing Jack ill.

"I could do much worse in terms of a mate, Jack."

Will looked away, uncomfortable with the praise but not necessarily Hannibal's choice of words.

"It doesn't matter, Jack," Will turned and locked eyes with Hannibal, "We're bonded now."


End file.
